


We Won't Die Bored

by MarauderCracker



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Other, Recreational Drug Use, Relationship of Convenience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 12:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2388725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarauderCracker/pseuds/MarauderCracker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michaela and Connor bet on who can get Wes to sleep with them first. Well, actually, they're trying to guess Wes' sexuality, but the serious investigative work gets a little sidetracked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Won't Die Bored

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as randomly messaging my trashy ideas to Miguel, and then I turned it into kind-of-actual fanfiction. Because of my friend Kato's idea that Michaela could be engaged to Connor, I ended up thinking of them being college frenemies and getting into a relationship simply because it worked.  
> Michaela is meant to be pansexual&panromantic Connor is bisexual and homoromantic (and somewhere in the aromantic spectrum).

"You already ruined your chances with him anyways, baby," Connor says, grinning at her. He only ever calls her any kind of pet names if he's mocking her. She only ever lets go of her decor when mock-fighting with him. 

Michaela makes a face at him before arguing that "he thinks you're a douchebag, come on," and reaching for her glass. She finds it's empty, but the bottle is too far away. 

They are doing one shot for every two pages of their essays they write, and she's still twenty lines away from her next congratulatory drink anyways. 

Michaela is way closer to finishing her work than Connor is, but she's also way closer to drunk. Alcohol enhances her competitive spirit and makes her forget about her insecurities. It's a dangerous combination. "Let's be real, though, I just need to tell him that I want to bang him and he'll be in my bedroom in three seconds," she says, tilting her head and smiling. Connor rolls his eyes. "You know it works every time," Michaela insists, keeping her smile innocent even as her eyes drift away from Connor's face and she very obviously looks up and down his body. 

"I recall rejecting you the first time you made a pass at me," Connor answers, smirking, and Michaela gapes for an answer. "You said you were never going to bring that up!" she complains, but Connor just shrugs. 

Their conversation dies off as Connor goes back to his essay, and Michaela rests her forehead against the keyboard for almost a minute, listening to the sound of his fingers typing away on his own computer. She's probably too drunk to actually finish this essay tonight, but not drunk enough for her ideas to be any less brilliant. She just can't type really well after five or six shots, but her intellect remains unaffected. Alright?

"You're talking out loud, Pratt," Connor informs, and Michaela snaps her back straight and blinks rapidly a couple times. Connor seems to be trying not to laugh. "What is your brilliant idea?"

Michaela is particularly good at pretending that whatever embarrassing little thing she might be doing is always on purpose, and she doesn't blush easily. Connor envies it, but he can read her anyways; even when she acts all nonchalant and ignores his remarks with her best poker face.

"Pass me the tequila," she says, and Connor almost doesn't make her beg for it. Almost. He dangles it in the air right between them, a couple inches away from Michaela's hand, but snatches back as soon as she leans forward. Michaela glares daggers at him. "Come on," she whines, finally. She even pouts a little, because no one is above pouting for a good cause, and alcohol is the best cause. Connor laughs at her, but hands her the bottle.

"What is your idea, darling?" he insists, when he suspects Michaela might have forgotten where the conversation is going. She frowns and thinks for a few seconds before answering.

"I think we should stop... uh," she nuzzles the bottle, takes the momentary lack of words as a chance to take a long sip of tequila, and almost doesn't make any ridiculous faces while gulping it down. That's another talent Connor definitely doesn't have. "Stop with the theoretical arguments," she babbles after putting the bottle down; trying to sound poised and professional but slurring every single word. "We should go from theory to practice," she finally manages to say. Connor laughs and shakes his head.

"Are you talking about Gibbins?"

Michaela removes her macbook from her lap and carefully sets it on the floor, fixes her dress before standing up. Even barefoot, she has trouble finding balance, and Connor immediately leaves his own laptop aside and jumps up to help her. She takes hold of one of the shelves, though, and shakes her head when Connor moves to grab her shoulders. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I know Laurel had..." her words fade into a mumble as she turns to look at the books. Connor stays by her side, looking curiously at the titles as she runs her names over them. "Help me find the repeated book," she tells Connor after a few seconds of trying and failing to read the blurry words. 

"You are in no condition to read right now," Connor jokes, but Michaela keeps looking. "What are we looking for?" he finally asks, giving in to his own curiosity.

"I told you, the repeated book! Laurel keeps her stash in a book, but she won't deface a book without having a good copy somewhere." She says it as if it was obvious, waving her left hand way too close to Connor's face for his liking. "She's probably keeping it inside a really gay novel."

Connor stares at her, confused, for a few seconds. He doesn't dislike Laurel, but he doesn't talk to her that much either. Definitely not enough to know where she keeps her weed. Since they've moved together, though, Michaela and Laurel have evolved from study partners to... friends. Like, real friends. Connor might be a little jealous. 

"I can't believe it!" Michaela exclaims, as she removes two identical versions of Little Women from the shelf. She opens the first one, but the pages seem to be intact. She puts it back and opens the second. 

Connor can't believe someone would carve a keepsafe for their weed on the pages of the most moralistic girl’s book to ever exist, but Michaela seems to find it perfectly logical. She takes one of the rolled joints from inside the book, and puts it back next to its twin. 

"Where is Castillo anyways?" Connor asks, as he lets himself be dragged by his forearm until they both can drop on the couch. Michaela slips a hand under her dress' cleavage and comes out holding a lighter. "She's been a bad influence on you," he jokes, and Michaela snorts. 

"On a date with some art-school chick, I think," she says, shrugs. "Irrelevant, want to get high or are you actually planning on finishing that essay tonight?" 

Connor snatches the joint from between her fingers instead of answering. She puts the lighter in his hands and moves to try and reach from her computer without getting up from the couch. She's an entire arm short, and Connor's first drag from the blunt goes wasted because he lets out all the smoke with his laughter. 

He watches with amusement in his eyes and smoke in his lungs as Michaela carefully stands up from the couch, takes a couple short steps towards the computer and then kneels down on the floor to reach the keyboard. Connor wants to question how healthy would it be for her to mix that much alcohol with weed; but he knows Michaela well enough to guess that it would only convince her to smoke the entire joint. They've been friends since their freshman year at college, though. Connor knows how to work his way around Michaela's stubbornness, just like Michaela is the only person able to deal with Connor's general douchebaggery. Well, she is the one to label it douchebaggery, anyways. 

It takes Michaela almost two entire minutes to press play on one of her jazzy playlists and stumble back to the couch, and Connor's already starting to feel the sticky drymouth from the smoke, but doesn't think he's already high. Michaela leans her cheek against his shoulder. It's nice with her: she doesn't expect him to put an arm around her shoulders or kiss the top of her forehead. She just leans her weight on him and tries to stop the world from spinning around her. Maybe Connor is a little high already, after all. 

"Gimme the joint," Michaela mumbles, and Connor sighs. He doesn't want to hold her hair while she pukes her guts out, but he knows that stress makes her act like a reckless teenager, and their lives aren't lacking in stress.

"Make out with me," he answers, keeping the joint well out of Michaela's reach. She snorts, but does lift her head from Connor's shoulder to look at him. 

"Are you that bored?" she asks, only half joking. Connor's smile is almost sweet. 

"A little, maybe. Mostly, you're really hot." 

Michaela seems unimpressed. She does clumsily straighten up, though, and this time she does allow Connor to help her keep balance as she moves to straddle his lap. Her flowery dress scrunches up around her upper thighs, and Connor runs his fingers across her skin. The touch feels weird, ethereal; and the room won't stop spinning, but her mind is still pretty clear. The conversation they were having before abandoning their work comes to her mind. 

"I didn't tell you about my brilliant idea!" she says, making sure to remark the 'brilliant'. Connor grins with the blunt between his lips, nods for her to know he's listening and continue. 

"We should do a Juliet Bet Revival. Hopefully, with better results," Michaela suggests, obviously proud of her plan. Connor isn't so sure. After all, he's the one that got beat up by a jealous boyfriend after they bet on who could sleep with Juliet Valles during their last semester at college. None of them actually got to sleep with her, either. 

"No one makes sequels for movies that flunked, come on," he says, holding the joint with the corner of his lips. Michaela grins, leans closer to his face. She snatches the joint from his lips and kisses him, but he doesn't answer the kiss. 

"That is a terrible idea," he says, his mouth pressed against hers. Her tongue brushes his teeth as he speaks, and he already knows he's gonna lose. She sucks on his lower lip and he gives into the kiss, pushes back and licks at the roof of her mouth.

She drags her teeth against his tongue before pulling away. 

"We should probably have clearer rules this time around," she says, and she's not slurring at all now. Her eyes are clearer. "Like, the bet's off if he's in a committed relationship," she suggests. Connor nods, moves to nip at her chin while he thinks. 

"Also off if he's ace," he says, and Michaela hums her agreement. "Or if he's into any of that celibate bullshit," he adds. They watched Cruel Intentions together during the summer. Michaela laughs. 

"What is the prize, though? I mean," Michaela smiles sweetly, presses her lips against Connor's neck as she speaks, "besides getting to wreck that bashful, innocent front of his," she points the last word with a bite, "and the bragging rights?" 

Connor realizes way too late that she's sucking a mark right over his pulse. He groans and tries to pull back, but she bites down on the already purple skin. He can feel her smile. 

"I want a divorce," he jokes. Michaela's giggles tickle against his skin. She moves her knees forward, to frame his hips, and presses down against him. This is always the moment when he realizes he's completely baked, when the softest pressure makes him shiver and his whole body starts to feel like he's electrified. 

"Do you think he stammers and babbles like he does in front of a crowd?" Michaela asks. Connor realizes that his head is swimming a little. "Or maybe he's confident, sure. Quick on his feet, like he gets under pressure," she suggests. They carefully try not to refer to that night unless it's in the vaguest mentions, but he knows what Michaela is talking about. He tangles his fingers with her long hair, and pulls to make her face him. 

"I'll tell you when I find out," he promises before kissing her. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @ queerhawkeye


End file.
